poem

 Hawks

Lately, I’ve been 

Noticing birds of prey

Slow-circling confidently 

High above but not high

Enough to relieve the uneasy

Sense of impending attack

Red-tailed and Cooper’s hawks 

Soaring over us all

Like silent watchful drones 

Against a deep blue void.

Squirrels aren’t the only

Ones to be alarmed 

A gentle reminder, every time

You espy a hunter,

There’s something else below— 

Small, fearful, desperately alive—

Scuttling through long grasses

Frisked by winged shadows.

4/12/22